Dear mother
by Sally Mn
Summary: A few thoughts from Our Gambler at Christmas...


_**Dear Mother...**_

I have no idea what you're talking about, Mother.

I am _not_ becoming sentimental and, heaven forbid, _benevolent_.

And I really, truly have no idea what you mean by charity. They are already indebted to me for what I go through for the good of this community, and they all know it. Because I have so informed them of the debt, in potential cash lost to me, quite forcefully and repeatedly. They do indeed owe me.

Well, except for young Mister Dunne, who won enough to wipe out any debt at poker last night.

No, Mother, he is _not_ gettin' the better of me! His win was simply a stroke of good fortune. Particularly given that he needed the money to buy his young lady love... I'm not certain, some utterly romantic rustic implement. Extraordinary how the fortune sometimes works, and he was endearingly thrilled.

Mister Wilmington also won a small amount, yes... and will no doubt spend it all on the ladies of the town, or some ridiculous, maudlin remembrances of the season. It takes very little to make _him_ happy, and to be honest, he does have a way of spreading that happiness through our motley little band, if not the whole town. So losing to them both _could_ be seen as a good deed, perhaps.

Mothah! Suggestin' that Ah _let_ them win is... is... Ah'm insulted! Ah'm appalled! Ah'm... not admitting anything.

No, no, the small medical library I have loaned - on a semi-permanent basis, true - to Mister Jackson were nothing, as I clearly told him. They were in an unsorted lot I purchased by mail: an old habit, as you know very well.

Of course you know, Mother, it must have slipped your mind.

I did not say you were becoming forgetful, dearest Mother, so I'm _certain_ you will recall my book-buying habit if you put your mind to it. In any case, I will sell the rest for quite a profit to the culture-starved masses out here, just as you taught me. And given that Nathan may in the future have my well-being in his hands again, I see his new library - surprisingly new and up-to-date, I had no idea, truly - as profiting myself...

I said 'again'? Oh, a mere slip of the tongue, Mother, you need not concern yourself. My well-being is _perfectly_ safe in his - or rather, in _their_ - hands.

Mister Larabee? Oh come, Mother, he has his reasons - and good ones - not to care for the festive season, but he is making an effort not to gun down any passing annoyances, such as... well, me. Surely you can see that it is _purely_ in my own interests to foster such tolerance by sharing with him such a trifle as _decent_ whisky...

No, it is not in my interests to leave town till he cheers up or sobers up.

Because it is even less in my interests to r-run out on him in a time of need.

And trust me, promising to sing at Josiah's Christmas sermon was _purely_ self-defence, I assure you. If I hadn't volunteered to sing, he would have requested one of the others, and only Mister Wilmington could carry a tune in a army wagon, and he is so easily distracted by the ladies in the choir. Or in the pews. Or anywhere else for that matter. I am fond of good music, and the Lord is _not_ going to provide the town in this, whatever Josiah says, so I must.

Yes, I must. They are expecting me.

Ah yes, and I'm afraid I _have_ actually paid for Mister Tanner's new jacket: painful though it was to be seen to purchase such a... painful excuse for attire, having suffered through the task I _insist_ on being there to present him with -

What? Mother, I was obliged to supply the new one.

Because the old one was ruined, even beyond his less than tasteful standards, when I bled all over... ah, forget I said that, we both survived the whole unpleasant contretemps, all thanks to Mister Tanner, but his jacket did not. You would not be interested in the details now, would you?

No, Mother, you would not.

No Mother, I am not trying to hide anything. Thanks to Vin... and Nathan... and the others, all of them... I'm fine.

I'm more than fine. I'm content.

For which freely given gift, I imagine, I cannot repay them.

**-the end-**


End file.
